


Just Keep Your Eyes On Me (Don't You Dare Look Back)

by Synnerxx



Category: Metallica
Genre: Angst, Birthday, M/M, Modern Era, Old Age, Self-Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 20:01:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2885747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synnerxx/pseuds/Synnerxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Lars's birthday and he'll sulk if he wants to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Keep Your Eyes On Me (Don't You Dare Look Back)

**Author's Note:**

> happy birthday, lars! you've always been my favorite. here's to many more years of metal! not that you'll ever read this.

Lars slips his robe on, sighing in relief. He pours himself a glass of wine and settles on his couch, staring around his empty house. Another year older and nothing really to show for it. Well, that’s not entirely true, but Metallica doesn’t count now, does it? Not on his birthday. Sure, he had spent the day with his kids and family and friends, but now he wants to be alone, wants to sit in his robe and drink his wine and just be.

He turns his cell phone off and takes his home phone off the hook. He’s already spoken to everyone he needs to today.

Fifty-one. The number echoes around his head and he rolls it around his brain, trying to make it fit. Some days, he still feels like he’s twenty and others, he feels like he’s a hundred and twenty. He takes a sip of wine and leans back into his plush couch. His back aches a tiny bit and the old rotator cuff injury still flares up now and then. More often these days. He’s getting old. He takes another sip of wine.

He snorts into his glass as he thinks about his looks. They’ve faded and he knows. He’s not blind. He doesn’t like looking into the mirror much these days. There’s too much gray in his stubble and not enough hair on his head. It wasn’t fair. James and Kirk and Rob all aged like a fine wine, still hot, but he aged like moldy cheese or something. A longer swallow of wine.

He can still play just as well as ever and for just as long, but it drains him more after. When the adrenaline is gone, he’s left bone tired and aching. He drains the rest of his wine and pours himself another glass. He curls up against the arm of the couch, tucking his legs up under him.

He’s fucking old. How unmetal. He laughs quietly to himself, a bitter sound, and drinks more of his wine. He’s working himself up into a good sulk here and why not? It’s his birthday and he’ll do what he wants. If he wants to sit at home and drink wine and sulk for a few hours, well, then that’s what he’ll do.

He’s about to finish this glass of wine when a knock at his door interrupts his thoughts. He pauses, wondering who it is, then decides to ignore it. He can do that. It’s his birthday. Another knock sounds and then a few more beats of silence reigns and Lars thinks whoever it was left, but then a pounding starts up and Lars heaves a sigh. Fucking James.

He stalks over to the door, pulling his robe around him, and opens the door. “What do you want, James?”

"Your phones are off." James says instead of answering.

"Because I don’t want to talk to people. Go away." Lars grumbles and makes to shut the door, but James sticks a heavy boot in the way and Lars gives up, turning and walking back into his living room. 

James grins and follows, shutting the door behind him. “Happy birthday.”

"Mm." Lars finishes off his wine and places the glass on his coffee table next to the bottle. 

"How many of those have you had?" James asks, concern coloring his voice.

"Two. I’m not even buzzed." Lars curls back up on the couch and stares blankly at the black screen of his tv. 

"I just wanted to check on you." James sits down next to Lars. 

"I don’t need you to." Lars says mildly. James will do whatever he wants anyway.

"I know. But I wanted to see you." James places a hand on Lars’s thigh.

"Why? There’s not much to see these days." Lars grumbles bitterly.

James doesn’t say anything, just tightens his grip on Lars’s thigh until Lars looks at him and then James is there, filling Lars’s vision, his hands cupping Lars’s face.

"Stop it, Lars. Sure, you’re older. We all are. There’s more gray and wrinkles than I’d like to admit, but you’re still as beautiful to me as ever. Even more beautiful because we’ve had all this time together, grown up together, and I’ve had all this time to appreciate you. All these gray hairs and wrinkles and whatever else are just signs of a life well lived, a life we lived together and will continue to live together." James strokes his thumbs over Lars’s cheekbones. 

Lars swallows thickly, blinks back tears. He’s maybe a little more tipsy than he thought. James leans forward and kisses him, kisses him like it’s ‘81 all over again and it’s their first kiss. But there’s all the love built in the years between them in this kiss too and Lars melts into James, clinging to him. 

He lets James pull him off of the couch and lead him upstairs to his bedroom. He lets James lay him down and kiss him again and again. He lets James strip them both and touch him as much as he wants. He lets James love him and James does his level best to worship Lars, taking it slow and soft, kissing every inch of skin bared to him as he tugs the robe off. He gives Lars every piece of his heart and Lars does the same as their moans and whimpers echo around the room. 

After they’re done, Lars curls up against James, tucking his head underneath James’s chin. James wraps his arms around Lars, still marvelling at the way Lars just fits against him. 

Lars kisses the spot above James’s heart. “Thank you.”

"I love you. Happy birthday." James whispers, dropping a kiss to the top of Lars’s head. 

They settle down to sleep. 

James doesn’t let go.


End file.
